


Once Around the Sun

by for_darkness_shows_the_stars



Series: What Comes After [9]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Dadko & Momtara, F/M, Fluff, Gaang (Avatar) as Family, Gen, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, It just happened, Late Night Conversations, Pre-Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Sukka!!! Being!!! Adorable!!!, Toph Beifong and Zuko are Siblings, Zutara Are Soulmates, and tho it's not explicit since it's not her pov, cinnamon roll aang, i mean ..., i wasn't intending to wax poetics about katara's beauty i swear, isn't it enough to just slap some words together?, katara is power-hungry in the best possible way, man i hate summaries so much, must we summarize them also???, once again my heart swells with love for katara, poppy makes an appearance again, she's thinking 'i shall go distracted', zuko is NOT a hugger (shut up sokka)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27643061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_darkness_shows_the_stars/pseuds/for_darkness_shows_the_stars
Summary: It's not every day a Firelord turns seventeen.
Relationships: Aang & Toph Beifong & Katara & Sokka & Suki & Zuko, Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar)
Series: What Comes After [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981828
Comments: 18
Kudos: 160
Collections: zutara (ATLA)





	Once Around the Sun

The wind whipped at Katara’s hair as the ship approached the dock. Bending the water around it, she alone manoeuvred it to the shore more expertly than a crew of Tribesmen ever could.

While fully aware of the proper protocol, Katara exchanged one look with her brother before they both leapt out of the ship, and straight into the Firelord who awaited them on the docks. Toph, though she couldn’t do the whole ‘exchanging glances’ thing, apparently had the same idea.

Only later would it occur to her that what they did could’ve been construed as an attack, and if his guards had been any less careful, it _would_ have ended with Sokka, Toph and Katara roasted.

But, as it happened, all that came of it was that their hug was returned with equal fierceness.

“Would you look at that, Katara,” Sokka said, once they’d reluctantly separated. “He’s a hugger now. We’ve trained him well.”

“Don’t get too used to it,” Zuko threatened.

“Hey, hey, let Snoozles have this. Spirits know he doesn’t get a lot of wins.”

“ _OI_!”

“I knew you missed us,” Katara said, while Toph and Sokka bickered. Zuko looked … different. Better.

He wore not the regalia he’d been clad in for his coronation, but a simpler attire that allowed for greater freedom of movement, sleeves clipped with armoured bands at his forearms, shorter robes, and a rich cape falling from his shoulders.

(Given way she always carried at least one water skin on her, even wearing the most formal of her gowns, Katara thought she might know why.)

In the sunlight, his hair gleamed like raven’s plumage, pulled up into a traditional topknot, topped with the golden five-pronged crown. The bangs that feel freely into his eyes softened the jagged edges of his scar.

“Of course I did,” he said, voice strangely soft, but before she could process it, her father and the Water Tribe delegation had left the ship, and it was time for courtly procedures and technicalities. She gave Zuko an apologetic look as Sokka and her shuffled away to stand at Dad’s sides. Toph didn’t bother.

“Firelord,” Dad said.

“Chief Hakoda,” Zuko returned, with a regal bow of his head. “Welcome to the Fire Nation. I hope your journey was pleasant?”

“As pleasant as it can be, Your Majesty,” answered Dad. “We are all experienced seafarers.”

“I am very glad to hear that. Shall we?”

* * *

“Have you ever been to the Caldera before?” Aang asked.

On Ji shook her head, mute when faced with the sight before her—a city gathered at the shores of a cove, and a road leading up, up, up the slope of a great volcano. And then, as Appa passed over the jagged peaks of the volcano’s gaping maw, a whole new sight revealed itself—red-tiled villas and manors, wide cobbled streets, natural lakes, and grand squares forming a mosaic that stood witness to the wealth and prosperity of the nation. And in the middle of it all, separated from the rest by two great walls, perched the Fire Palace.

“Whoa,” she breathed.

“I know, right?” Aang said giddily.

On Ji was mute. Her mind couldn’t quite catch up with her eyes as Appa flew lower and lower, to one if the palace’s many courtyards. She was _here_.

Appa landed with a grunt, and in a moment, they were swarmed by attendants in red. Amidst a cacophony of _welcomes_ and _Avatar Aangs_ , a she heard a young voice call out, “TWINKLETOES!”

The swarm of servants parted to reveal a group of three kids marching forward. She recognized two from the party in the cave—the tall, lanky boy with dark skin and blue eyes was now dressed in blues, his hair pulled up into a short ponytail rather than a topknot, and the small girl whose ebony bangs fell into her clouded eyes, now wearing baggy greens. The last was unfamiliar—a girl of fifteen perhaps, with milky white skin and short auburn hair.

“You brought a _friend_?!” the boy screeched. “Wait, you’re …”

Aang hopped of Appa, and On Ji followed, albeit less gracefully.

“I’m On Ji. We met in a cave?”

The boy’s jaw dropped. And then his mouth spread into a grin. “Did Aang get a girlfriend and not tell us?”

On Ji’s face heated up. “Erm … no. We’re … we’re not together—like that, I mean.”

“Ignore him,” said the auburn-haired girl, lightly swatting the back of the boy’s head. “I’m Suki.”

“You wound me, honey,” said the boy. “Hi. I guess we should get the actual introductions over with.” He flashed her a grin. “I’m Sokka.”

“Toph,” huffed the small girl. “The Greatest Earthbender in the World.”

“No-one likes arrogant people, you know,” Sokka told her. Toph responded by sliding her foot—bare, caked in a layer of dust—over the smooth marble. The rock contorted, a small peak emerging for the sole purpose of Sokka tripping over it.

“Toph!”

Sokka’s complaints had no effect whatsoever on Toph, who simply cackled gleefully. She hadn’t even turned to look at him. In fact … she never seemed to be looking at people she talked with. On Ji recalled her pale green eyes, and the locks of hair that perpetually hung before them.

 _Blind_ , whispered something in her mind, a solution beautiful in its simplicity. But …

“It’s very nice to meet you all,” On Ji said politely. “Properly, I mean.”

“Where are Zuko and Katara?” Aang asked.

“They’re at it again,” Toph said breezily. “Sparring, I mean. They’ve been at it since we arrived, really.”

Aang smirked. “Why don’t we go say hello to my dear great-grandson?”

* * *

There wasn’t time for On Ji to get an explanation for _that_ as they all swept together through the halls. The others all seemed to know where they were going, which was _great_ , because On Ji herself didn’t have a clue.

Eventually, the amount of people they passed on their way lessened considerably. She heard the noises first, the swooping sounds of blazing fires and splashing waters, clashing together. Before she could connect two and two, they emerged into a wide, secluded space.

She saw the girl first—beautiful and ethereal in the shadows of the tidal waves she controlled, a fierce spirit. Her blue eyes were narrowed in determination as she moved her lithe body in sync with the water, her brown hair loose and wild around her face. In contrast, the boy was an oncoming avalanche, tall and lean, swift and energetic, graceful in his forms. He burned as bright as the blazing fires that clashed with the girl’s water. It would sizzle out into steam, or it would drown the fire.

It was … beautiful.

It was mesmerizing, watching two masters at work, their elements swirling around each other in an intricate, primal dance for dominance. They were opposites, fire and water, perfectly matched against each other. Balance.

“Well, well, young man!” Aang said in a strange voice, cracked like an old man’s. “Why don’t you come and give your great grandpappy a hug?”

The fires died out, the waters fell, and in sync the combatants’ eyes turned to Aang. Grinning goofily, the Avatar spread out his arms in anticipation of a hug. The Firelord marched forward, crossing his arms.

On Ji noticed the scars first. Not the mark of fire she knew to be on his face—she hadn’t quite gathered the courage to look into his eyes yet. But there were many more—mottled skin shaped like a starburst on his sternum, five long, thin burns on one shoulder, corresponding to the fingers of a grown man, thin white lines and ill-healed cuts. Like her aunt, after she returned from the front. On Ji couldn’t believe her eyes that day the entire family went to the beach.

“Well?” Aang was still speaking in his old-man voice, grinning.

“I could banish you from the Fire Nation, you know.” His voice was raspy, like he’d been inhaling too much smoke.

Aang laughed. “Now, now, sonny, is that a way to greet your dear old grandpa? Respect your elders!”

“You’re _thirteen_ ,” the girl cut in. On Ji remembered her as well. She had danced with Aang, and now that she had witnessed her bending first-hand, she could see the similarities.

“I think you mean one hundred and thirteen, Katara,” Aang said.

“Am I … missing something?” Only after they all turned to her did On Ji realize she’d spoken. She felt heat flush her cheeks.

The Firelord … buried his head in his hands. “Nope. I am not dealing with this.”

“You see, On Ji,” Sokka cut in, swinging an arm over her shoulders, “we have recently discovered that Avatar Roku was his great-grandfather.”

“Which makes him my great-grandson!” Aang proclaimed cheerfully. He pulled out a pack of multi-coloured sweets from his robes and thrust it forward. “Happy birthday, young man! Don’t eat it all at once, or you’ll get cavities!”

“Katara,” said the Firelord. “Would you hate me if I returned to my previous occupation of hunting the Avatar?”

The girl chuckled. “Depends how annoying he gets.”

On Ji finally looked up. The Firelord was young—she’d known that, logically, but only now, faced with him, did it really land. He’d be seventeen tomorrow.

His features were the classical High Nobility—sharp, pointed, with pale skin, raven hair and golden eyes. He would’ve been handsome if it weren’t for the angry red mark of fire splayed over the left side of his face, rendering his one eye narrowed and contorting his features into a perpetual scowl.

The prince’s banishment was quite a scandal when it first hit the rumour mills. The news of his mutilation even more so. The official story was a training accident, but On Ji had witnessed him bend just a few moments ago. No-one who could keep so much fire under painstaking control could have blasted a fireball into their own face only three years ago. And then there were other things—the sickly green tinge to her mother’s face when Dad told her the story in hushed tones, the way they insisted she was too young to hear it.

Looking at him now, On Ji wasn’t sure she ever wanted to know.

“The point _is_ ,” Toph interjected loudly, “Twinkletoes brought a girl.”

On Ji’s face heated up. “I’m not … I’m just …” She took a deep breath, and bowed, ninety degrees, letting her hands form the Flame. “Your Majesty,” she said. “Master Katara. I am On Ji, of Gujai, your humble servant.”

“Oh, for Spirits’ sake, wipe those dumb grins off your faces!” Aang groaned, and On Ji looked up, to see Master Katara and the Firelord watching him with identical smiles.

“You never told us you’d be bringing a girl,” said the Firelord. “If you had, I’d have had something prepared for her.”

“You too?” Aang moaned, burying his face into his hands. “I thought you didn’t have a sense of humour.”

“You wound me, Aang. My Lady On Ji—” Uh-oh. He turned to her, inclining his head, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I fear my hospitality may be lacking due to my friend’s lack of foresight in informing me of your arrival, but I shall do my best to remedy that.”

“Stop making fun of Aang!” Master Katara said, swatting him on the arm, and the Firelord’s lip quirked up for a moment.

Strangely, that was the push On Ji had needed. For better or for worse, she had found herself among friends. Not _her_ friends, perhaps, but maybe they could be. She relaxed her stiff posture and allowed a bit of light to enter her eyes.

“Seriously, Sweetness, how do you expect us _not_ to make fun of him?” Toph demanded, crossing her arms. “He brought a girl, and he didn’t tell any of us about her!”

On Ji chuckled. “It was a spur of a moment kind of thing, really,” she explained. “We just so happened to meet in that cave you held a dance party in.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” spoke the Firelord, holding up a hand, “a dance party? In a cave? In Gujai? Was every weird occurrence throughout the Nation in the days before the invasion you guys’ fault?”

Sokka stroked his chin between his fingers. “Probably, yeah.”

“Gah!” said the Firelord, and On Ji was stunned to see him for the kid he really was. A kid with an insane amount of political power, yes, but … “This is worse than Jang-Hui. And do you know how much paperwork went into Jang-Hui?”

“What happened in Jang-Hui?” she wondered.

“Katara dressed up as a Spirit and destroyed a weapons factory,” Sokka stated matter-of-factly, and On Ji could only gape at the girl in question. Seeing her now, with soft facial features and big blue eyes, it was almost easy to forget the way she had commanded tidal waves just a few minutes ago. On Ji made a note _never_ to underestimate her.

Katara was smiling, with an undeniable undercurrent of pride. There was steel to this girl, On Ji decided, and stubbornness, and maybe even darkness. But moreso than any of that, there was kindness, and a relentless drive to do good.

* * *

Upon hearing that On Ji had yet to buy a dress to wear, Sokka nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Do you know what this means?” he asked, staring every single person seated around the table where they had gathered together for a light lunch.

“Let me guess,” Suki said, leaning her chin onto the elbow she put on Sokka’s shoulder. “Shopping?”

“That’s right,” he exclaimed, landing a peck onto her lips. “You know me so well.”

“It’s not that hard,” said Suki. Her eyes glistened as blue as the clear, cloudless sky outside.

“Gah! Get a _room_ ,” Toph groaned.

“You’re twelve—”

“I’m _thirteen_!”

“Whatever,” he continued. “You’re _thirteen_ , you don’t even know what _happens_ in the room.”

“Sokka, do us all a favour and shut up, will you,” his sweet sister said. “You’re going to scare our guest, who isn’t as used to your antics as we are, away.”

He looked at On Ji, who seemed quite amused by the whole ordeal. Scare her off, yeah right. “The point is,” he said, “I will magnanimously lend my shopping expertise to you.”

“Thanks,” On Ji said drily.

“And Firelord Sparky here,” he slapped Zuko on the back and made him spit out his water. Ignoring the murderous glare sent his way, he continued, “will graciously provide the funds.”

“How is buying a dress for a _Fire Nation_ citizen s part of reparations to the _Southern Water Tribe_?” Katara asked, and though Sokka was turned away from her, he could hear the eyeroll in her voice. Call it brotherly intuition.

“In Snoozes-logic, it is,” Toph snarked.

“Won’t you join us, sister dearest?”

“Ah no,” she said, leaning back into her chair. “I already have a dress, thank you very much.”

“I’ll come,” Suki offered.

“Awesome,” Sokka said, pulling her into a hug. “Toph?”

“Sure, sure,” she replied. “I’ll decide on the colour.”

“Awesome—must you?” He sent a flat look her way, not that she’d be able to see it.

“You’re too easy,” Toph declared, propping her dust-caked feet onto the table.

“Feet off the table,” Katara ordered imperiously.

“You’re no fun,” Toph groaned, but she did obey. Her own way of showing affection for Katara, he knew. It made his heart feel heavy with the love he felt for this makeshift little family.

Even if Toph was turning up her nose right now.

“Hey Toph,” Zuko whispered into her ear. “The desk from Sozin’s office is kept in here somewhere. Want to find and desecrate an invaluable artefact of my family’s history?”

Toph gave him a bright, wolfish grin. “Do I?”

* * *

The marketplace was, as ever, crowded with merchants from all over the world. Suki loved every moment of it.

“Here,” she said, pulling a long golden chain with a carved pendant from one of the stalls and showing it to On Ji. “What do you think?”

“It’s pretty,” On Ji admitted, running her fingers over the medallion. “It would go well with the dress we’ve picked out.” She pointed to Sokka, who bore admirably under the weight of their bags. He carried On Ji’s dress, his new pair of boots, Suki’s newly acquired makeup set, some fancy pottery that had caught his eye early on, and a set of daggers the two of them had agreed to share.

“And,” Suki added, bringing out a pair of matching earrings, “it would go amazing with _this_.”

* * *

They were having a small, private celebration this evening. His real birthday was tomorrow (Yaaay …), but tonight, he would be able to mark it in a way he actually liked, with the few people he actually not only liked, but trusted, rather than surrounded by hundreds of scheming nobles from all around the World. He groaned whenever he remembered it.

And _maybe_ he was being dramatic, but honestly? He’d rather go back to camping out in the woods as a refugee than deal with them. At least then he didn’t have to care about being polite to sleazy bastards.

But Li the Refugee was not Firelord Zuko, and they had different duties and priorities. Including, he supposed, this.

But that was a problem for tomorrow, and he’d be damned if he let it ruin tonight. So, he was on his way to the small, closed off pavilion they had set up for the occasion.

And even if he didn’t usually enjoy his birthdays, he was excited for this one.

A pointed cough drove him out of his ruminations, and he paused, to see Uncle at the doorway of one of the side rooms. His eyes were solemn, his mouth upturned into a gentle smile.

Once inside, away from the prying eyes of the servants or the court, Uncle reached into his robes and pulled out an item wrapped in red silk.

“I wanted to give you this tomorrow,” he said, “but since it seems the real party is today …”

Zuko shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “You don’t have to give me anything.” Really, he didn’t. Uncle had already spent so much of his time and effort and love on Zuko … it was more than he could ever repay.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

“Oh, my dear boy,” Uncle said quietly, and moved forward, putting a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “It’s not about _having_ to do anything. And besides … this belongs to you, I think.”

Feeling familiar heat in his eyes, Zuko nodded, and took the item. With trembling fingers, he parted the silk, to reveal …

Oh.

_Oh._

A curved piece of red gold, fashioned to resemble a highly stylized flame, on top of a narrow circlet of gold, and a matching pin.

He’d seen it more times that he could count. Played with it, too, when he was too little to care for the War or Ozai’s approval or Azula’s schemes.

Something hot and wet trekked its way down his face, but he didn’t really care to wipe it away as he stared at the crown. He hadn’t seen it in over seven years now.

Finally, he tore his eyes away from it to look at Uncle, at his loving smile.

Before he knew it, he was rushing to wrap his arms around the old man’s neck. “How did you …”

“I found it,” Uncle answered quietly, “when I was going through Ozai’s old office. He’d kept it in a locked drawer.

That had been a few weeks ago, when Uncle had first arrived. Going through Ozai’ paperwork and correspondence was a nightmare in of itself, and Zuko hadn’t actually had the courage to enter the office in question and uncover whatever horrors awaited there. Uncle had taken the burden off his shoulders, yet another thing he would never be able to repay.

“Thank you,” he whispered into Uncle’s robes, barely audible, “thank you so, so much.”

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Uncle said back, “you’ve grown so much, and I’m so, so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished.”

The floodgates cracked.

* * *

He was late for his own party, but it hardly mattered. He held Mum’s crown in his hands, as tightly as he dared, lest he crush the delicate metalwork, still feeling a little dazed.

After she disappeared, it was an unspoken rule that no-one was allowed to talk about her. No-one was allowed to cry for her, miss her, acknowledge that Princess Ursa had existed, lived, loved. Sometimes, when he’d weep into his pillow at night, away from Ozai’s cold and calculating gaze, he’d wonder if he’d made her up entirely.

But he didn’t, and the proof was right here in his hand.

He was still dazed when he entered the pavilion where his family was waiting for him.

“Man, and I thought punctuality was important for Firelords,” came Sokka’s snort, but Zuko didn’t really feel like sniping a response. He must’ve appeared supremely stupid, staring at the group like that, because he hadn’t made them up either, they were real, and they were here, and they loved him as he loved them.

“Are you okay?” asked Katara’s sweet voice, and all he could do is extend the silk-wrapped treasure for her to see. She would understand—if there’s anyone who would understand, it’d be her.

Seeing something in his eyes, maybe, Katara took it with utmost gentleness—the absence of the gold’s weight was strange after clinging onto it so fiercely. Delicately, Katara lifted the flaps of red silk, as he had done half an hour earlier.

He could tell she recognized it, from the way her ocean-deep azure eyes widened at the sight of it, and her hand shot up almost unconsciously to her throat, to trace the carved pendant of her mother’s necklace.

She’d seen a portrait of Mum once, months ago, when the end of the War was still fresh and the crown of the Firelord was only days old in his hair.

She looked up to him, the question in her eyes.

“Uncle found it,” he said, his own voice seeming distant and otherworldly, “in a locked drawer in Ozai’s old office.”

She nodded in understanding, smiling softly. Delicately, she re-wrapped the crown and pressed it into his hand. “It’s beautiful,” she told him quietly. “I know you’ll find her.”

The heat in his eyes threatened to spill again, and he could only nod his thanks as something lodged itself in his throat. Her gaze drew him in, somehow, until the beautiful blue was the only thing he could see.

“Okay, lovebirds, let’s drop this emotion-y crap and get to the fun part of the night!” It was Toph, unsurprisingly, who broke the moment.

“Right,” he mumbled. “Um.”

He relaxed soon enough. It was hard not to, when faced with his family’s unending enthusiasm. They talked, they joked and teased, they ate the cake and the multitude of sweets until the clock tower somewhere in the city struck midnight.

Sokka was the first to raise his goblet—juice, not wine. Officially, because none of them were old enough to drink (and _that_ was embarrassing to admit when Earth Kingdom dignitaries tried to have a toast in his honour in Ba Sing Se after the War’s end). _Un_ officially, it was his and Katara’s way of preventing Toph from getting drunk for the first time at the tender age of thirteen.

Oh, for Agni’s sake, Suki was right, they _were_ the mum and dad of the group.

“For our favourite Firelord Jerkbender,” Sokka called, and downed his juice. “Who would have thought that a year ago, we destroyed Roku’s Temple, eh?”

“Technically,” said Katara, “Roku destroyed his own temple.”

“Who’d have thought that a year ago I was illegally entering a country I now rule,” Zuko muttered. “How the tables have turned …”

“Oh right, I forgot about that,” Katara snorted.

“Hey,” he said. “ _Technically_ , I saved you from _Zhao_. You’re welcome.”

“Ugh,” groaned Aang. “Zhao was _creepy_.”

“I know, right!?” Zuko exclaimed, pointing his cup towards the Avatar. “Always getting _way_ too into my personal space and inviting me for tea! Seriously! What was it _with him_? Not to mention all those _terrible_ fishing jokes on officers’ meetings! And—”

“Fishing jokes?” Suki replied, curving a brow. “You don’t think …”

Zuko paused. “He wouldn’t … actually, yeah, he totally would.”

“Damn,” Toph said. “The guy sounds like a real fucker.”

“Oi! Who taught you those words?” snapped Katara, whirling on her.

Toph only gave her a toothy grin, but Zuko could swear he saw Aang shrunk in on himself. Well, well …

“He was,” he chose to tell Toph instead, because he knew how freeing it felt when you could put up a metaphorical middle finger into the face of a bastard of a parent. Or parent _s_ , in Toph’s case. “The Ocean Spirit ate him, though, so, thank Agni, we’ll never have to deal with him again.”

“Come again,” Katara said, “the Ocean Spirit _ate_ him?”

“Yup. I was there.”

Silence fell, before Sokka, with steel in his eyes that told Zuko he was remembering a certain white-haired princess, spoke. “Good riddance.”

They could all only nod at that.

“Okay, time for the presents,” Aang called. “This is supposed to be a _happy_ occasion, guys.”

Happy?

Could there truly be a _happy_ occasion for them, something wholly untainted by the War? He didn’t think so, not really. They were all children of the War, and it had permeated their entire lives. But maybe, he reasoned, as he watched Aang march forward with five small bags in different colours gathered in his cupped hands, a smile as bright as Agni himself on his young face, that didn’t mean _they_ couldn’t be happy.

“I know it’s technically _your_ birthday, but this is for everyone, really,” Aang said, as he distributed the bags. Zuko’s was made out of bright red satin, adorned with clumsily sewn golden suns. Next to him, Katara’s was similar, blue instead of red, embroidered with the phases of the moon. Toph’s caught his attention next—made out of plain colours, but embroidered most exquisitely. Perfectly suited, he thought, to someone who experienced the world around her through touch first and foremost.

Carefully, Zuko pulled at the strings holding the bag closed and shook out the contents.

It was a bracelet, formed out of six thin, flat beads. Each had a different symbol carved into it—the classical sigils for Water, Earth, Fire and Air, as well as two unfamiliar ones, one representing a Kyoshi Warriors’ fan, another a sword.

“Air, Water, Earth, Fire, Fan, and Sword,” Aang quoted, looking directly at Sokka, and Zuko didn’t think he’d imagine the glistening in the boy’s blue eyes. “They’re … it’s an Air Nomad custom. We didn’t really … have families, like the other nations do. So when we found the people … _friends_ , we wanted to make our family out of … we’d make these for them,” he finished awkwardly.

Suki was the first to pull him into a hug, and the others followed quickly. A chorus of thanks echoed the room, and once they separated, Zuko wasted no time slipping the bracelet around his wrist. The thin beads would fit perfectly under the vambraces of his ceremonial robes, and he felt a wave of affection for the young Avatar nearly overwhelm him.

Aang took out a sixth bracelet from a pocket of his robes and hooked it over his own hand.

Toph, on the other hand, was still fiddling with hers, running her fingers over the engravings.

“Oh,” Aang said when he spotted her, “you don’t have to wear it, if you don’t want to.”

“Shut the fuck up, Twinkletoes!” Toph bellowed, and pulled the bracelet over her foot, to rest on her ankle—close to her feet, her way of interacting with the world around her. None of them missed the significance of the gesture. “I’m going to wear it every day for the rest of my life.”

That prompted a round of giggles all around.

“Okay, we’re next!” Sokka announced. Katara came to stand by his side, and together, they presented him with a large, flat wooden box. The lid was engraved with swirling patterns of blue and white. They reminded him of his three years in exile, looking over the endless expanse of the ocean. Of course, he couldn’t really appreciate the beauty of it back then, too furious at the entire World and himself most of all.

If someone had told him, when he had first awoken from unconsciousness, head wrapped in bandages, that he would be crowned Firelord before his seventeenth birthday … well, he would be horrified, because that would mean something had happened to his father, and … yeah.

“C’mon buddy, open it. We didn’t only get you the box, you know.”

He looked up and directed his best glare at Sokka. To his immense dismay, the other boy didn’t even flinch, much less recoil. Huh. So a sixteen year-old boy was better at this than all of his ministers? “I am admiring the carvings,” he said, in his haughtiest, most royal voice. He may or may not have been imitating Azula. “Unlike some here, _I_ have an appreciation of fine art.”

“He got you there,” Katara said, grinning and elbowing her brother in the side. Sokka rubbed at his tender ribs.

Zuko flipped the lid open. There, carefully laid amidst navy blue fabric, lay a set of beautiful Water Tribe hunting knives. The blades were sharpened to a point, fashioned out of pale whalebone and engraved with delicate swirls and whorls, the hilts wrapped in soft leather.

“We made them ourselves,” Sokka said proudly, throwing an arm over his sister’s shoulders and puffing out his chest.

“So Dad can take you hunting when you finally come to visit us at the South Pole,” Katara added.

“You mean if your grandmother doesn’t kill me first?”

“C’mon buddy—Gran Gran doesn’t want to kill you!”

“And you’re a Master Firebender—I’m sure you could take her.”

His jaw dropped. “ _Katara!_ I am not going to _fight_ your grandmother!”

She burst into giggles, hand flying to her mouth. The sound of her laughter was high and lilting, like chimes. Joy crinkling in her eyes, the furrowing of her nose … he’d never seen her look more beautiful.

“She’s just kidding, buddy,” Sokka said. “Gran Gran helped us make them. She doesn’t hate you. Though an apology would not go remiss.”

Zuko exhaled. “I’d been planning on groveling and begging, if you’re so curious.”

“Always the dramatic one,” Katara huffed. “So, do you like them?”

Such a loaded question. These were more than just knives—they were Water Tribe hunting blades. Hunting kept the Water Tribe alive, it provided them with food and clothing and shelter. It was sacred, the perfect harmony between man and animal and the Spirits.

He was the Firelord. The grandson of the man who had ordered the Southern Water Tribe decimated, their benders stolen away and kept in subhuman conditions. He was the angry prince who’d come into their village and threatened their elders.

And he … he was being given these. As a gift. Along with an indirect invitation to partake in the hunting, the most sacred ceremony of the Tribe.

Instead of answering, he pulled Sokka and Katara into a hug. And didn’t let go for a long time.

“Wow, buddy,” Sokka said, as Zuko—as discreetly as he could, not that it fooled anyone—wiped at his eyes. “Two hugs in a day—we really did train you well.”

Katara, though … Katara was watching him with a smile, and there was softness in her eyes, and he _knew_ —knew in his bones, with the same certainty he’d had when he’d pointed the gleaming metal of his Dao blades at Ozai on the Day of the Black Sun—that she was aware that he understood what the blades meant. And that she was glad.

She was Katara, and he was Zuko, after all. They always understood each other, even when they were on the opposite sides of a century-long war.

“Don’t get too used to it,” he told her brother, even as his eyes were still fixed on hers, gold on blue. The air around them crackled with something he’d have called electricity if he didn’t know exactly how lightning felt when it coursed through his body.

It had been the easiest decision he’d ever made.

“We’ll see about that,” Sokka swore. “I’ll make a hugger out of you yet.”

When the pressure became too much, Zuko tore his eyes away from Katara’s, and smirked at Sokka. “We’ll see about that,” he promised.

He had it on good authority his smirks were _almost_ as intimidating as his glares, but alas, Sokka was impervious to those as well.

“Who’s next?” Aang called. Suki cast a sidelong glance at Toph, and apparently seeing something in the young earthbender’s face, stepped forward, carrying a thin, square package.

“Here,” she said. “I had it specially made for you.” Zuko took the gift. It was wrapped in pale green paper. The smirk Suki’s lips curved into when his fingers first touched immediately sent him on high alert.

“This won’t explode into my face if I try to open it, will it?” he asked.

Suki’s hand shot up to her chest. “Zuko! Do you really think I’d do that?”

“Maybe?” he huffed, and tore the paper away. It was … a portrait.

Of him, and Suki, her in Kyoshi Warrior getup, complete with full-face makeup, one arm slung over his shoulders, wearing his full Firelord attire. Under, in some of the most beautiful calligraphy he’d ever laid eyes upon was a single sentence written.

_Best friends ever since he burned down my village._

“I thought we were past that,” he groaned. “This is absolutely getting framed, by the way.”

Suki cackled. “I knew you’d appreciate it. Now … do I get a hug as well?” She was smirking again.

“You only want a hug because you want to prove Sokka right,” he accused.

“So you won’t give me one?” she pouted.

“This doesn’t count, _Sokka_ ,” he growled, even as he pulled her in. Suki laughed.

“It totally does.”

“Traitor.”

“Well, you did burn down my village.”

“I said I was sorry!”

They both laughed as they separated.

“Let me see, let me see!” Aang chirped. “Oh, Suki, you’re a genius.”

“I know,” Sokka and Suki said in unison. Then there was a weird moment where they looked at each other, and their eyes softened, their lips curving into smiles, and yup, Zuko suddenly understood why Toph complained about the lovey-dovey stuff.

Speaking of Toph …

“This palace has over fifty bedrooms. Why don’t you take it to one of those. Here, Sparky,” she trust forward another flat item.

A stone relief, he realized, showing six distinct figures. _Them_ , not as they truly appeared, but rather as someone who’d only experienced their looks through touch and seismic sense understood it. Them, their little family, shown in a uniquely _Toph_ way.

He wasn’t going to cry. Nope.

Not at all.

“Well?” Toph asked, crossing her arms. She tried to hide it, but he could tell she was anxious for his reaction.

He didn’t care what Sokka thought when he pulled her into a hug. “Thanks, Toph,” he whispered. “I love it.” She’d squealed at first, but he could feel her muscles gradually relax under his grip.

And she knew—of course she knew, she always did—that he was telling the truth.

* * *

They laughed and they joked and celebrated, and when their eyelids began to droop, instead of going to their own rooms, they pulled out spare blankets and pillows out of a linen closet in the hallway, and curled up together in a pile. He ended up with Toph’s feet in his lap, Katara’s head on his shoulder, and Aang’s arms wrapped around his waist.

They fell asleep like that, all wrapped up together. Like they had done after Sozin’s Comet, in his bedroom, still in a state of shock, unsure of the future and the past. Like they had done on Ember Island, in the inner courtyard of the beach house, after a terrible play had made them all reluctant to part.

It was … nice.

Yeah.

* * *

On Ji was buzzing with nerves. The sun neared the line of the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, and she was in one of the many rooms of the Fire Palace ( _The Fire Palace!!!_ ), getting ready for tonight’s ball with the rest of the girls.

She’d spent the day with Aang and Momo, mostly, playing around the Palace, admiring the decorations set up for the evening, and the sheer grandeur of the place.

Suki, it was revealed soon enough, was the makeup expert of the group. Her own ensemble was nearly complete—the ceremonial garb of a Kyoshi Warrior, somewhat less practical than their usual get up, with a more elegant chestplate and more gold thread intersped with the green. Her face was painted white, save her lips, and the red streaks of makeup over her eyes.

She looked … regal. Like a warrior goddess.

Toph, it was soon discovered, wasn’t planning on wearing a dress at all. Her clothes did bear some similarities to what she had worn yesterday, but generally more regal. After some scuffle, she’d even allowed Suki to apply some eyeliner to her face. It brought out the natural prettiness that she didn’t really care for, but when Katara and Suki began voicing their admiration, her mouth formed a shy smile.

Katara herself was wearing the signature dark blues of her tribe. Her sleeves were wide and flowing, her skirts floor-long. The dress was embroidered with wave-like patterns in white and hemmed with pale fur from the South Pole. Her hair spilled down to her waist in soft brown curls. Pearls adorned her ears and hands, but the necklace she wore was the same one from yesterday. She didn’t take it off for sparring, either. Maybe it meant something.

Suki took one look at her before she began rummaging the makeup bag. “There,” she’d said, “perfect.” When she moved away, there was only a thin outline of kohl and a dash of silver on Katara’s eyelids.

A Lady of the Ocean and Moonshine.

The thought came unbidden to On Ji’s mind.

“Okay, your turn,” Suki told her, and Katara led her to the small stool she and Toph had occupied before. Suki came up with a number of small bottles. Lining them up on the table next to On Ji, she began speaking.

“You’re still young, and very pretty, so I’m not putting anything intense on you. Just a bit, to set off your natural beauty. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” On Ji said. Suki tilted her chin up, and began. She dabbed some blush on On Ji’s cheeks, darkened her lashes, and outlined her eyes with kohl. As a final touch, she put something sheer any glossy on her lips.

“There,” she said, finishing. “All set.”

At the sight of her reflection in the large mirror that hung at the wall of Suki’s room, On Ji’s brows shot up. Suki was right, the simple makeup really suited her. The top half of her hair was pulled up into a topknot at the crown of her head, the rest falling down her shoulders in soft waves—courtesy of Katara and her curling iron. The dress she had picked up on the market with Sokka and Suki was a far cry from the majesty of Suki’s warrior uniform, or even the ethereal beauty of Katara’s gown, but it was lovely nonetheless.

She wasn’t, after all, the captain of a warrior force established by an Avatar, or even a princess—no matter how much Katara herself protested the title.

“Thanks, Suki,” she whispered. “It’s amazing.”

“Of course it is,” said the warrior. “I had a lovely canvas, after all.”

“I don’t know …” Toph sounded from the background, where she had been lounging on Suki’s bed and getting her clothes wrinkled. “Don’t you think it’s a bit garish?”

Before On Ji could turn and demand what she meant by that, Katara and Suki groaned in unison.

“We’re not Sokka, Toph,” Katara said.

Oh.

Even On Ji smiled.

* * *

“Are you ready, girls?” Suki asked, as the four of them paused before the doors of her quarters.

Katara smiled a lion-shark’s smile. She was born ready.

Being home was fun, yes, and she’d missed it dearly after such a long time away, but … _this._ This is what she was born to do, to dance among the politicians, navigate the intricacies of the court, use her reputation and standing to force this World into a better shape.

She loved the South Pole. She loved Gran-Gran, and Sokka, and her father. She loved the months-long days, the endless sheets of ice, the impenetrable blue depths, the cold summer sun on her skin.

But she was too big for it, its antiquated ways and narrow-minded people. Its isolation. Having seen so much of the World and its peoples, somewhere along the way, she had outgrown her childhood home.

Suki took her smile as an answer. “Let’s show them who’s in charge, ladies.”

* * *

Shoulder-to-shoulder, the girls stepped into the same grand hall where the ball for Zuko’s coronation had been held. The sight of people mingling, people in reds and blues and greens, filled Katara’s chest with pride.

“Is that Kuei’s bear I can sense?” Toph snorted.

Katara searched the room. “Tui and La, it is!”

“Oi,” Suki cackled. “He’s called _Bosco_. And he’s the Earth King. If he wants a bear to be his best friend, then let him be. Monarchs are weird like that.”

“ _Zuko_ isn’t like that,” Toph pointed out.

Katara chuckled. “You haven’t seen him with his turtleducks.”

“Obviously,” said Toph.

“Oh, you know what I meant. And Aang with Appa and Momo? Same thing.”

“Speaking of Aang …”

The Avatar was approaching them with a radiant grin. He wore the same ceremonial Air Nomad robes from the coronation. Momo perched on his shoulder like a vigilant guardian. She nudged Toph. _See?_

“You all look awesome,” Aang said. Next to her, On Ji blushed.

“As do you, Twinkletoes. _Very_ refined.”

“Thank— _TOPH!_ ”

She shrugged. “It’s not my fault you keep falling for it. But where’s Snoozles? You know he’s my favourite target.”

“Over there with Chief Arnook.” He pointed somewhere behind his back, where she could make out Arnook, as well as her brother, standing tall and proud in his Water Tribe furs.

Her brother would make an incredible chief, one day.

As if he’d felt her staring at him, Sokka stole a glance towards their little company. She saw him excuse himself to Arnook, and make his way to them. He had eyes only for Suki.

“Whoa,” was the first thing he’d said.

“Whoa yourself,” Suki replied, taking a step forward.

“I’m going to puke!” Toph announced cheerfully.

“Then puke.” Sokka smirked, and moved in to place a kiss on Suki’s lips. “You look ravishing today.”

“You’re not so bad either. In fact, you’re almost as pretty as a freshly-polished war fan.”

Sokka smiled. “That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me! And, for your information, I think you may just be prettier than Boomerang.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Katara said. “Get a room if you’re going to be like that.”

Aang pulled at her sleeve. “Here comes the birthday boy!” He pointed towards the grand staircase, at the top of which the Firelord stood. Slowly, the chatter and the noise died down, as the guests all turned their focus towards their host.

“Whoa,” On Ji breathed. Katara wordlessly agreed.

Zuko’s golden gaze surveyed the assembled, his face perfectly neutral, dark hair pulled up into a topknot. The crown in his hair, a crown worn by Ozai and Azulon and Sozin, gleamed in the firelight. Golden dragons sneaked their way across the rich burgundy of his clothes, the cloak that fell from his shoulders longer and heavier than the one he’d worn yesterday. The vambraces clasped around his forearms were ornately engraved and adorned with red jewels.

 _Firelord_.

“Welcome,” he said, voice carrying clearly across the room though he hadn’t raised it. “Friends … allies … and those to-be. Tonight, we are gathered here, people from all corners of the World, in a show of unity not witnessed in a hundred years. A year ago, none of us—least of all me—could have imagined peace to be possible. It just goes to show us that destiny works in mysterious ways.” A corner of his lips quirked up. “Let tonight be a celebration of that peace and a testament to that unity.” He bowed his head in acknowledgement.

“He’s not half-bad at this,” Sokka commented, swiping a canapé off a passing server’s tray.

“Don’t be rude,” Katara said, smacking him on the arm.

Sokka mumbled something incomprehensible on the account of having a full mouth, and it was all Katara could do not to roll her eyes at her brother’s antics.

“You sure you want to date this guy?” she asked Suki, tone as dry as the Si Wong Desert.

“He grows on you,” replied the other girl, grinning. “I think it’s charming.”

Sokka mumbled something else, swallowed, then repeated in a much clearer voice. “Thank you, honey.”

“Gross,” Toph groaned, pretending to retch. “Here comes Sparky to deliver us from you two.”

Katara turned to look in the direction Toph had indicated. Breath caught in her chest—as close as he was, she could fully appreciate the intricate design of his robes, the regal figure he cut.

And when their gazes met, time itself seemed to slow down, as her entire focus narrowed only to his eyes—one pale gold and as brilliant as the Sun, the other covered with nigh-imperceptible membrane of milky white. Even so, they were beautiful.

“Hi,” he said softly, dark brow arched over his forehead, gaze betraying wonder and admiration, and … “You look really pretty tonight. Um … not that you don’t normally look pretty or anything, it’s just that … er …” He flashed a self-depreciating smile and bowed his head. “I’m going to shut up now.”

“Why, thank you,” she said, smirking. “You’re looking quite handsome tonight too, Majesty.”

His head jerked back. “I am? Um … thanks.” Scarlet spread over his face, and Katara felt her own cheeks heat up, though she took small comfort in the fact that the blush would be far more visible on the alabaster of his skin than the dark brown of hers.

“Um … Earth to Katara and Zuko?” Suki called, smirking like a tiger-cat. “We’re all still here. I mean really,” she turned her nose up. “ _Get a room if you’re going to be like that._ ”

“Why don’t you and your fans find one too?” She was fairly sure her face was burning now, but that didn’t stop her from sniping at Suki. “Add Sokka and Boomerang to the mix if you’re feeling up to it.”

Unfortunately, all she had succeeded in was making the Kyoshi Warrior laugh.

“Anyway …” Toph drawled in the background. “I’m off to find something to eat … avoid my parents … same old, same old …”

“I saw them with Minister Yang and the Lady Sin-Lung,” Zuko suggested helpfully. “So keep away from them.”

“Thanks, Sunshine.”

“Wanna dance?” Aang offered to On Ji. “Show these stuffy nobles how it’s done?”

The girl grinned brilliantly and took his hand.

“Let’s go, Sokka,” said Suki, grabbing him by the hand.

“But—”

“I saw a table dedicated solely to every imaginable taste of fireflakes.”

“Well, in _that_ case …”

Suddenly alone, Katara angled her head. “Did they just …”

“I … I’m not _sure_?” he said. “We’re not that boring, are we?”

“Well, our senses of humour _are_ questionable, at best.”

“Hey! I like your sense of humour.”

She looked up to him. There was nothing in either his tone, expression or posture to indicate sarcasm. “Really?”

“Well … yeah.”

“Take that, _Sokka_!” she cackled, pumping her fist.

“I’m not sure how far the approval of someone so hopelessly unfunny would get you with Sokka, but if that’s what makes you happy …”

She swatted his arm— _oh_ , that fabric was so _soft_. “You’re not _hopelessly unfunny_. Jokes just aren’t your thing. You’re the snark guy.”

“The snark guy,” he repeated flatly. “Well then. That makes me feel so much better.”

“It should,” she told him. “After all, you think I’m funny, don’t you?”

His lips curled into a small smile. “Yeah … yeah I do.”

“So …” she reached up and twirled with a strand of her hair, “do you want to … dance maybe?” In the background, the orchestra was just finishing up with one melody, and another would soon begin.

Zuko smiled, that sweet, soft smile she had never thought he’d be capable of when they first met. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

* * *

There was no way both of them weren’t aware what they were doing.

And that only made it better.

Toph may have loathed the intricacies of court life, but she _understood_ it as only someone born and raised in it could. Just because she rejected it didn’t mean she wasn’t proficient in it.

And there was no way in hell both of them didn’t know that a waterbender from the South Pole having the honour of the first dance with the Firelord would make ninety percent of the audience, who’d been hoping for an in on the Fire Nation’s most desirable bachelor, go green with envy.

She could actually feel it in their heartbeats, and she could only imagine the glares that were being sent their way.

Toph smiled.

Now onto avoiding the most Ancient and Honoured House of Beifong.

The distinct heartbeat she always associated with her father was on the other end of the hall, and next to it … whoa. That was the Earth King. And his bear, of course. Not a platypus skunk bear, or a polar bear-dog. Just. A bear.

Man, Kuei was a decent guy, not someone she’d have exposed to her father’s wily ways. But … but Mum wasn’t with him.

Toph frowned, and listened closer. And— _there_! Among a throng of other Earth Kingdom ladies, was the light, easily excitable heartbeat of Poppy Beifong.

She wasn’t with Lao. And Toph …

Well.

Maybe she wouldn’t avoid _both_ her parents the whole night.

* * *

They were energetic and swift and unstoppable. In her beautiful dress, letting her feet and the music carry her with no regard to form. Around her and Aang, lost in the ecstasy of freedom, the other couples danced, following exact, carefully measured steps.

The nobles’ dancing was orderly and stiff and utterly beautiful … but it wasn’t the giggling of schoolchildren allowed to let loose for the first time in their lives. It wasn’t the bright grin of an Avatar, or the sheer _freedom_ she felt right now.

On Ji laughed freely, uncaring what the people around her would think, and Aang joined her in it. _This_ —this was what she had been missing in life.

* * *

Katara felt … powerful.

She loved the feeling. She loved the respect in the eyes of foreign dignitaries, people who, when they looked at her, saw Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, not little Kat. People who listened to her opinions and her experiences, who understood that the person they were dealing with was no ordinary fifteen year-old.

After that first dance with Zuko, giggling at the green faces of admirers both his and hers, his palm bushing hers lightly, warm as only a firebender’s can be, talking of the future of the World and the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes, she’d mingled more and more, passing the long hours in conversation and politicking.

She’d spoken to Arnook, aged by the war and the loss of his only daughter. Danced with the Earth King, telling him of the World she had seen and her ideas for it. Talked to a hundred other rich and influential people, exchanged ideas and niceties.

She was someone they _listened_ to, someone they _revered_ , even.

A Hero of the Hundred Year-War, the woman who had freed the Avatar from the iceberg, battled for the rights of female waterbenders, mastered her element in less than a few months, defeated the Mad Princess during Sozin’s Comet.

This was power unlike the push and pull of water she’d become so accustomed to, or even the draw of the full moon.

This power she had earned through sweat and blood, power that would allow her to help the needy millions scattered across the world.

 _That_ power, she had used to end the War. _This_ one, she would employ to rebuild the World anew afterwards.

* * *

“Hi, Mum.”

Toph felt her mother start in surprise. She had waited until the group of Earth Kingdom noblewomen Poppy had been a part of disperse before she approached.

“Toph?” Mum’s voice was thin and surprised, as though she hadn’t expected Toph here. But that was just dumb, why wouldn’t she be here? Sparky was the older brother she’d never had, of course she’d be here.

She gave Mum a crooked smile. “Who else?”

“It’s good to see you …” said Mum. “You look … erm. Lovely?”

“I can tell you’re lying.”

She sensed Mum’s posture slump. “No, no, baby, that’s not how I meant it … I just … well, your clothes are … a tad, ah, inappropriate, for the occasion.”

Toph crossed her arms. “The Firelord didn’t seem to mind, and it’s his fucking party.”

“Toph, I—”

“Save it. I don’t even know why I came.” She raised her chin defiantly.

“I’m sorry, I … I swear I’m trying.” She wasn’t lying, Toph could tell. That only made it hurt more.

“Well it’s not working,” she snapped, and turned on her heel.

“Toph! TOPH!”

* * *

Sparky found her first, sulking in the corner.

“Hey, Toph,” he greeted, coming over to stand beside her.

Toph remained silent.

“I’m just … I’m going to hide here with you for a bit, okay? Politics are _exhausting_. But …” His heartbeat sped up. “Did you see—erm … sense? Did you sense how amazing Katara is at this? She just … she’s a natural. Agni, I’m almost jealous.”

“Sugar Queen’s pretty cool,” she spoke finally. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he swore. And _he_ wasn’t lying.

“I went to talk with my mum,” she admitted. It was always easy to admit things around him. Toph didn’t know why, it just … was.

“Oh.” He paused for a moment. “I guess it didn’t go well?”

“I … she … urgh!” She threw her hands up in anger. “She told me I looked lovely. And I could tell she was lying. And when I called her out on it, she said she didn’t mean it like that. That she only meant my clothes, but …” She sighed. “Every time I think I made some fucking progress …” She bowed her head. “I _don’t care_ how I look. But this … this is just that she doesn’t understand me. Doesn’t understand that I wouldn’t be me if I let someone dress me up in a frilly dress and paint me like a porcelain doll. I don’t care what’s appropriate, I never have!”

He was silent for a long moment. “That’s rough.”

She snorted. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Wait,” he protested, “I’m still thinking!”

A pause.

“Well?”

“Okay, I got it … you know you don’t owe them anything. And it’s really noble of you to try and fix your relationship with your parents despite that. But if you think it’s pointless, or if you just don’t want to do it …” he shrugged. “I wasn’t joking, you know, when I sent that missive. You’ll always have a place here. I … I’d actually really like it if you stayed with me—not that you have to! I don’t want you to think that I’m pressurizing you, or anything …”

“I get it,” Toph said, smiling softly. “It’s just …” She closed her eyes, and exhaled a long breath. “It _hurts_. Why does it hurt so much?”

His shoulders slumped. “I don’t know …” he said quietly. “Parents are supposed to love their kids unconditionally. But sometimes they don’t … but that doesn’t mean the kids don’t love them anyway.”

“I … I wasn’t … I know my parents and your dad don’t really compare—”

“No, no, don’t say that!” he said quickly. “I … I don’t think things like those can really be compared, and even if they can, they shouldn’t be. My father’s a monster, what else is new? But … your mum and dad mistreated you too. And … I am so much happier now that I’ve accepted I don’t owe Ozai a thing. I have Uncle. And one day, I’m going to find my mother. And you … you have me. Always. And Katara, and Sokka, and Aang, and Suki. So don’t … don’t ever forget that.”

Toph smiled softly. “Thanks, Sparky.”

She punched him in the arm. As per custom.

“Oh, Sugar Queen’s approaching!”

“Katara?”

She grinned. “So … how was your dance?”

He snorted. “It was actually really nice.”

Her grin widened. “Was it, now?”

“Shut up,” he snapped, disgruntled, but his heartbeat sped up.

“Anyway … I think I’m going to go now … have fun with Sugar Queen!”

* * *

She spotted Toph and Zuko in a darkened corner, talking quietly. As she approached, Toph took her leave, giving them both one of her signature grins. Zuko watched her leave with his eyebrow raised.

“Well then,” he said, when Katara approached.

“She was quick to get away,” she huffed.

“Yeah …” he turned to her, golden eyes earnest. “Would you like to get away too?”

Katara smiled. “Maybe.”

Flashing her a grin, he grabbed her hand, and ran.

* * *

“This is where Azula and I would sometimes run away to during boring court functions,” he explained.

“What, a dusty attic?”

He rolled his eyes. “Nope …” Opening a hatch in the ceiling, he revealed the night sky. A passageway to the roof, Katara realized. “Here.”

“Whoa …”

They sat together at the edge of the Palace roof, legs dangling over the precipice. Up here, the sounds of the ball beneath them were muffled and distant. The early winter air was cool and fresh on her skin.

“It’s beautiful here,” she said softly. “I was so angry about that at first. During the War, after Ba Sing Se. When we’d first arrived to the Fire Nation. It was so beautiful, and I was so angry about that. The country I hated so much … it didn’t have the right to be so beautiful.”

“But you don’t hate it anymore,” he said carefully.

“No …” she sighed. “I … I’m never going to forget, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“No, no, no,” he said decisively. “You never should, either. But … I’m not going to lie and I say I’m glad you don’t hate the Fire Nation anymore.” _Or me_ , went unsaid.

“So am I,” she admitted. “It’s … freeing, not to hate anymore. I didn’t even realize how tired it was making me until I let it go.” She smiled softly. “Did you have any fun down there? It’s your birthday, after all.”

He snorted. “It’s my council hoping that of they make big enough of a fuss, everyone’ll magically forget they’re being ruled by a kid.” Drawing his legs up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his chin on them, golden gaze fixed somewhere faraway. His wine-red cloak spilled on the black roof tiles behind him. “I don’t feel like a kid, though. Haven’t in a long time.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, eyes roaming over the bustling city beneath them, the common people revelling and celebrating in their own ways. “I know what you mean.”

Quiet fell. It wasn’t uncomfortable—it never was, with the two of them. He’d always understood the power of silence, and it was one of the first things Katara had come to appreciate about him, during the War.

She loved every member of their makeshift little family, but sometimes, Toph and Aang and Sokka and even Suki were just _too much_. It never felt that way with Zuko, though. She could tell him anything, and he’d wait patiently for her to finish before carefully considering what he’d learned. Sometimes he’d offer advice, or encouragement, or even a target for her vitriol. Whatever she needed.

He probably didn’t even know how much she’d come to rely on him.

“When I got back home after the War,” she spoke, surprising even herself, “I felt … strange. Don’t get me wrong, I was glad to be back, and even gladder to see all the people I’d left behind, but … it wasn’t home anymore, not really. I’d … outgrown it.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “After Ba Sing Se …” She looked up to him in surprise. At his left, all she could see of his face was the scarred side, and she knew being allowed so close to such a weak point was a show of trust deeper than any words could communicate. “I came here. After three years in exile, three years spent dreaming of this place, I came back, and … and it was all wrong. Or,” he shrugged, “the place hadn’t changed. But I have. And no matter how much I tried … by the Day of the Black Sun, I knew that I couldn’t stay here, unless it changed with me.”

Katara nodded. “You know what’s the worst of all … I feel more comfortable … more _at home_ here than in the South Pole.”

“What, here in the tiger-vipers’ nest?” he asked, lip quirking up.

“Ha-ha. No. It’s just …” she sighed. “At home, they’ve all seen me grow up, all seen me struggle to lift even a bubble of water.” She laughed mirthlessly. “I can stop the rain … you’ve seen it.”

“Oh, yeah. It was very impressive.”

“But they … I’m always going to be ‘Little Kat’ to them, you know? Someone they can never take seriously. But here …”

“Here they know you as I know you,” he said. “Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Well … I’m glad one of us had fun, at least,” he snorted.

“I did … I really did,” Katara admitted. “But come on! Surely it wasn’t so bad for you.”

He shrugged. “Dancing with you was … um …” scarlet spilled over his unmarred side again, and Katara chuckled. “It was … nice. Really nice. And it’s not like I didn’t do anything worthwhile. Lady Ikari—um, she’s a noblewoman one of the outer isles, and … I’m pretty sure I’m related to her in some way? She actually approached me and said she’d fund my new program for reducing homelessness … so that was awesome. But …” he shrugged.

“For most people, this is just an occasion to throw their sisters and daughters and nieces at me. And it’s always the parent the aunt or the uncle introducing this random person who’s either thirty or twelve— _seriously, twelve?_ —and practically throwing them at me, and then I have to dance with them, because it’d be really impolite to just refuse, and …” he paused to catch his breath. His shoulders slumped, and his voice turned small. “And they just … agree with whatever I say, because they think that will somehow make me like them, and try very hard _not_ to stare at my left, and I can just see the disgust in their eyes. And I … you can literally _see_ them wondering if the power than comes along with marrying me is worth having to look at me every day.” He fiddled with the edge of his cloak.

“I _know_ what I look like,” he spat out. “I _know_. I don’t need anyone throwing it back into my face.”

Katara felt like some Spirit had stripped her of her ability to talk, and all she could do is watch in listen in mute horror.

“I thought I was above this, you know. I made my peace with what had happened. And I … I’m proud. But …” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Zuko …” she whispered, unsure what to say next. To her, his scar was just another part of him, just as much as the dry sense of humour, the raven hair, or the golden eyes. They were all puzzle pieces that, when arranged correctly, made up her best friend. “I hope you know that I … I _never_ …”

He smiled, and it broke Katara’s heart. “I know.”

He had no idea— _no idea_ how much those two short words meant. And she couldn’t find the right words to express it. So she just … reached out.

She’d only touched his scar once, since the Crystal Catacombs. And now, she let the tips of her fingers linger just above the mottled scar tissue, close enough to feel the heat that radiated out of him, far enough for him to pull away if he wanted to.

He didn’t.

He leaned in, hesitantly. As Katara splayed her hand over the tough, leathery skin, he closed his eyes. A show of absolute trust.

She didn’t know what to say—that physical appearance didn’t matter to her? He knew that. That she thought him beautiful nonetheless? She couldn’t tell him that!

_Where did that even come from?_

She … well, she had eyes. That was all.

“Sometimes it’s disgust,” he muttered, so softly she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if they weren’t standing so close. “Sometimes it’s pity. And that’s even worse.”

“I’m sorry,” she settled on whispering. “I’m so, _so sorry_. You deserve better than that.”

He just shrugged.

“You _do_ ,” Katara insisted. “And they’re all fools for not seeing you for what you are.”

He chuckled. “All the less reason for actually marrying any of them.”

Running the pad of her thumb over the skin under his eye, Katara’s lip quirked. “So, I’m not the only one they’re trying to marry off?”

“Who’s trying to marry _you_ off?” he asked, frowning.

She scowled. “The Northerners. A lot of them arrived and settled in the South, and they’re bringing their traditions with them. _And_ , they’re trying to thrust them upon us. I’ve been working a lot on supressing that, and Sokka’s been invaluable help. I actually got a new law installed: if anyone from the North is immigrating to the South, any arranged engagements must be broken off.”

“That’s … wow. That’s impressive. You must be proud.”

“I am,” she said. “But now the stupid old men are pressurizing my dad into arranging a marriage for _me_ —not that he’d ever do it, of course, and even if he tried, Gran Gran would kick his arse. But they think that, if I had a husband to keep me in check, I’d stop with my ‘ridiculous ideas’.”

He snorted. “When have you ever listened to stupid old men?”

“I know, right? Besides, if I ever do marry, it’ll be to a guy who spreads my ridiculous ideas along with me, thank you very much!”

“I have no doubt you will,” he said quietly. “You two will the terror of the misogynistic politicians all around the globe. And I’ll be the flower girl at your wedding.”

“I can’t make _the Firelord_ a flower girl!” she protested. “It’d be an international scandal! Another war could begin!”

“Sure you can.”

“All right … but that means I also get to be the flower girl at _your_ wedding. Preferably to someone who’s trying to marry _you_ , not your crown.”

“Yeah … that’d be nice … actually …” he drew himself up. “I … um, I’ve been meaning to ask … well, I was going to do it tomorrow, but since we’re here today, um …”

“Yeah?”

“The Southern Water Tribe needs an ambassador,” he blurted out. “So far, the Northern Ambassador’s been representing you, and obviously the interests of the South aren’t what he cares most about, and might not align with the North’s at all times, so it’d be really good if the South also had one, and—”

“Zuko,” Katara cut in. “Breathe.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Um … right. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d … be willing to do it?”

Katara stared at him, eyes wide and jaw loose.

“I mean,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to, or anything, but you command a lot of respect around here, having beaten Azula and everything, and I trust you implicitly, and, erm … if you don’t want to, I’m sure we could find someone else for the job, and—”

“You want—me. To be the ambassador,” she echoed.

“Um … yeah?”

“That … that’s a lot of responsibility,” she reminded him.

“I know.”

“And you’d give it to me?”

“I … why not? You … you’re like me.” He blushed again. “In that … you’ve been all over the world, so you know how it is out there. You know what the people need. And … well, you’re someone who actually _wants_ to make a difference. That’s … rare.”

She felt heat pooling in her eyes and did her best to blink it away. She didn’t want Suki’s efforts to wash away. “I … that’s a lot. I’d have to come live here.”

“Um … yeah …” he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry. I … um. I didn’t think. Of course you’d want to stay with your family.”

“No, no,” she said quickly. “That’s not what I meant. I just …” she inhaled a deep breath. “I need to think about it, okay? Confer with Dad and Sokka …”

“Of course!”

“But …” she smiled. “Thank you. For giving me the opportunity. I appreciate it. Really.”

“You deserve it,” he said, eyes earnest. “More than anyone else I can think of. And I totally get it if you don’t want to uproot your whole life or anything. It was just an idea.”

Katara chuckled. “I’d say my life is pretty uprooted already. I spent the first fourteen years on my life in the South Pole, remember? And now I’m in the capital of the Fire Nation, having a heart-to-heart with the Firelord on the roof of the royal palace. That’s … that’s a lot.”

“Yeah … I know what you mean. I mean, I _am_ the Firelord … and I’m having a heart-to-heart with a Tribeswoman. Eight year-old Zuko would be _very_ confused if he saw us now.”

Silence descended again. Katara watched the stars up in the sky, tracing unfamiliar patterns in the night. Yue gleamed as a thin crescent, casting her white light over them and bathing the city silver.

“Firelord?” Katara called, smirking.

“Seriously?” he asked flatly, and her smirk widened.

“Would you do me the honour of a dance?”

His lip quirked up. “Why, Master Katara, it would be my genuine pleasure.”

* * *

So they danced.

And as the grey light of dawn peeked its shy rays over the jutting, ominous spikes of the Caldera’s volcano, the music grew soft and honeyed. Slowly, the otherworldly energy granted to her by Yue’s silvery light seeped out of Katara, leaving her heavy and exhausted. She wound her hands around Zuko’s neck, and leaned into him, pressing her cheek against the soft fabric of his robes, breathing in the smell of smoke and spice that followed him around like a shadow.

They abandoned all traditional steps in favour of swaying gently with the sweet tunes, her eyes shut. One of his hands had wound its way into her hair, while the other had pressed against her back, seeping warmth into her skin even through the rich material of her gown. He rested his chin on the crown of her head.

Later, he walked her through the eerily quiet halls to her quarters, located in the family wing of the Fire Palace, both of them silent. And when they reached the door, he gently took her face between his hands and brushed his lips over her brow once. Katara’s eyes fluttered shut. His voice was hoarse from disuse as he bid her good night.

Once inside, Katara leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes and throwing her head back. Her skin burned hot where he’d kissed her, a small, contended smile curving her lips. In a dreamy daze, she slipped out of her dress, and into a simple sleeping gown. Nestling among the soft silks of her bed, she sought to collect the scarce few hours of sleep she still had the time for, before the Water Tribe sailships take her home the next afternoon.

* * *

It was nearly noon by the time Katara emerged from her bedroom, and joined her father and brother for late breakfast in Dad’s quarters. She nodded them good morning and plopped down on the cushioned seat.

They were all still exhausted on the account of having stayed up all night, so when Katara announced, “I’m going to be the Water Tribe Ambassador in the Fire Nation,” it was met with a reaction that was delayed a few seconds.

“What?” asked Dad, frowning. “Since when?”

Katara shrugged, taking a sip of her tea. “Since last night.”

Sokka nodded sagely. “So, you’ll be sending me fireflakes in the mail every week, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course. _Fireflakes_.”

“Hey, I’ll send you as much blubbered seal jerky as you want!”

Katara considered. “Deal.”

Dad blinked. “Um … I feel like we should talk about this.”

Katara shrugged again. “Zuko pointed out that the Southern Water Tribe doesn’t have a representative here, and I think we can all agree that the North can’t be trusted to keep our best interests in view. He offered me the position, I said I’d think about it.” Another sip. “I thought about it.”

“Not that I don’t agree that we should probably have an ambassador …” Dad said slowly. “But are you sure? That’s a lot of responsibility. And it’s so far away from home.”

“Honestly? I’ve been craving something like this for a while now,” she admitted. “During the War, I could help people wherever I went directly. Now that it’s over, being a waterbender isn’t enough. If I really want to make a difference, I need a position of power to do it from.”

Sokka beamed at her. “Yeah, that sounds like you. You’ll do great.”

“Thanks. Besides,” Katara continued, flashing him a grin, “it’s not like I’ve never been away from home before. And thanks to the airships’ speed, I could be home within a day if I want to.”

Now, Sokka beamed with _pride_.

“Yes, we know you helped invent the airships,” she said quickly, before he could. “And the submarines, also, yes, we know. Anyway, I really think this is a big step for me.”

Dad chuckled. “I never thought there’d be a day when my little girl would be informing me that she is accepting a job in the Fire Nation.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it,” she mumbled, looking past him, through the window. “Eight year-old Katara would be very confused if she saw me now.” Dad’s quarters overlooked the public section of the royal gardens, and the great city beyond that. The sky had already lost some of its brilliant blue hue, announcing the oncoming rain. She smiled. It was as though the Spirits themselves have blessed the young Firelord’s birthday with the perfect weather. Now that it was over though, it was time for the regularly scheduled rains. “Only a year ago, the War was still going on, and we were sneaking into the Fire Nation to speak with Avatar Roku.”

Dad pursed his lips. “You know you’re going to have to tell me everything that happened while you were travelling with Aang _one day_.”

“Oh, but why, when randomly dropping facts without context is so much more fun?” Sokka asked, grinning.

Dad muttered something incomprehensible.

“Oh,” Katara cut in, her grin identical to Sokka’s, “how about that one time Aang got tried for a murder Avatar Kyoshi committed, and when Sokka and I found evidence to acquit him, Kyoshi herself manifested and confessed.”

“Aaah … Aang nearly got boiled in oil that day,” Sokka replied. Both of them carefully watched their father’s face, who was obviously trying to determine if he was being conned.

“One day,” Dad swore, “I’ll get the entire story out of you two. Or I’ll just ask the others.”

* * *

She found Zuko at his favourite place.

The private gardens were only accessible from the family wing of the Fire Palace, which currently only housed Zuko, and whenever they happened to visit, the members of Team Avatar.

Hm. The long months since the War’s end haven’t made that name any good, but she still liked it best out of all of Sokka’s suggestions.

Zuko looked rather peaceful, dressed in simple silks that pooled around him, rather than the stiff ceremonial robes, raven hair loose, sitting at the edge of the pond and throwing crumbs of bread into the water for the turtleducks to feast on.

“You know,” Katara began softly, plopping down next to him, “you never told me why you like this place so much.”

“Hey, Katara,” he said, giving her a shy smile. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Obviously,” she snorted softly, and cocked her head. “That’s not a bad thing, by the way. This is a beautiful place.”

“Yeah …” he turned his eyes towards the pond, where two tiny turtleducklings argued over a piece of bread. “Um, I used to come here a lot with Mum. Before … before I really realized how messed up my family life was.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Believe it or not, my fa—Ozai didn’t really pay all that much attention to me when I was little. So that was good. And even Azula wasn’t always … like _that_. We actually loved each other, once. I … I think I still love her, despite everything she’s done. It’s messed up, I know, but …” he shrugged. “Anyway, this was always my and my mum’s place. We’d sit here for hours. She was kind of my only friend before you guys.”

She chuckled.

“Yeah, I know, it’s pathetic.” He shrugged. “Mai and Ty Lee were always Azula’s friends. Or minions, I suppose. I just … I just never had any of my own.”

Katara averted her gaze, towards the clear surface of the pond. “I know what you mean … Sokka and I were the only kids our age in our village. He’s my brother and my oldest friend. And … I suppose I get that other thing, too.”

“Oh?”

“There was this little corner in the tent our family shared,” Katara said softly, lost in the memory. “It wasn’t a _pond in our private garden_ , but it was … ours. Mum and I used to hang out there all the time, whether we were playing or doing our chores, or … anything and everything, really. Sometimes, Sokka would join us.”

She barked a bitter laugh. “When I returned home from the War, they had rebuilt … a lot. And our tent, and the little corner I’d spent so much time in with Mum … it was all gone. And I know— _I know_ that it’s a good thing, that we have actual waterbender-built buildings and everything now. But … I never got to say goodbye. I left home, and it never even occurred to me that our little corner could be gone when I come back.” She wiped at the moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes, when a warm hand found its way to her back, and he pulled her in.

“I’m so sorry, Katara,” he whispered into her hair, rubbing soothing circles into her back. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“You’re warm,” she muttered, and snuggled closer. The winters here were warmer than any summer back at home, but she wouldn’t pretend that she didn’t appreciate it nonetheless.

Pressed so close to him, she could feel the vibrations of his silent chuckle. “It’s a firebender thing.”

“I just … I feel so _awful_ for missing it, when it’s a part of rebuilding, and …”

“No, no, no,” he said quickly, still holding her close. “It was your special place … you should never feel bad missing that, of course you do. I don’t even want to imagine how I’d feel if this garden was gone … I am so, so sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said into his shoulder. “You always know what to say.”

“Um, have you met me?”

She gave a wet chuckle. “Okay, fine, ‘ _hello, Zuko here’_ may not have been your finest moment,” she admitted. “But your speech from last night was pretty good.”

“Thanks,” said he dryly.

“I mean it!” She raised her head and gave him her most determined glare. “It was _great_!”

“Thanks,” he echoed, softer this time.

“Yes, well …” She unwound her hands from his neck and brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t actually come here to get snot all over your tunic.”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “I don’t mind.”

She smiled. “Thanks, I guess. Anyway, what I was actually going to say is … I accept.”

His good eye widened, and he angled his head. “You accept … you’re going to be the ambassador?"

“Yeah.”

“That’s awesome,” he said, and gathered her in a hug. Then he stiffened. “ _Do not_ tell Sokka about this.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a thing guys: in the Book One episode the Winter Solstice: Avatar Roku, Iroh tells Zuko that in his sixteen years, this is the stupidest thing he's ever done. How much funnier would that line be of the Winter Solstice was the actual date of his birthday?
> 
> [Tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/stars-and-darkness)


End file.
